SeleneByMarialyn

Is it ever a single event that leads you to your current situation, or a series of circumstances?

For me, there was a catalyst that pushed me to write and lean into my creativity. Maybe someday I’ll write about it, but it isn’t fully my story to tell. However, it made me realize how fleeting life is and how much I’d become a passive player in my own existence. I wanted more.

My husband encouraged me for years to blog, but I was reluctant. Who is going to read my writing? Who cares what I have to say? Are people still searching for connection?

Nevertheless, here I am—swimming against the proverbial current of my own limitations. The only thing I knew for certain was that I wanted to create a community in a world that felt more disconnected, more at odds, more isolated. I wanted to share the simple joys of life.

Writing forces me to look at and engage with my world differently. It stops me from glossing over the mundane, keeps me from getting caught in the hamster wheel of motherhood, and demands that I be present.

It’s so easy to dismiss the whimsy movement. To say finding joy in the everyday is unrealistic. That magic is for children. But whimsy, joy, and magic aren’t frivolous. They are a deliberate way of living. I think we’re missing the bigger picture. At the root, it’s about choosing to make room for joy in a world that tells us we are not enough, that we need more, and that our value is tied intrinsically to our productivity.

Maybe what we are missing is the permission to play. A sense of wonder. Creativity without productivity. Gathering for the sake of gathering. Making something beautiful when buying it would be easier. Celebrating things that aren’t milestones.

There’s a difference between building a life and perpetually being told the life you’ve built isn’t enough. I refuse to treat ordinary life as a part I have to get through while waiting for the “good stuff” to happen. I am the creator of my world. To an extent, I can design my own reality—one rooted in appreciation, community, and joyful celebrations of the ordinary.

In hindsight, I was searching for a way back to myself and the things that bring me joy. “More” wasn’t about changing my life, but choosing to fill more of it with the things I love. More creating. More gathering. More celebrating for no reason at all.

I don’t know where any of this will lead. But I do know I’m making room for joy—and that’s what I was looking for all along.